


though we cannot make our sun stand still, yet we will make him run

by sonictrowel



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Episode Fix-It: s06e13 The Wedding of River Song, Episode: s06e13 The Wedding of River Song, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, I will try to do more of these!, Other, Post-Episode: 2015 Xmas The Husbands of River Song, Post-Episode: s06e13 The Wedding of River Song, and i WILL be using that in everything forever thanks, and then the show can use it where it honestly makes 0 sense, been thinking about rewriting this scene for nearly 10 years, first night on Darillium, if BF can use To His Coy Mistress where it makes perfect sense, oh yeah and I'll never be over BF saying 11 wrote her love poems, then I can too right
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:00:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28765989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sonictrowel/pseuds/sonictrowel
Summary: For tumblr prompts and short ficlets, should I ever manage to write something under 10k again.Ch 3: things you said I wouldn’t understand
Relationships: Eleventh Doctor/River Song, The Doctor/River Song
Comments: 35
Kudos: 59





	1. things you said when I was crying / things you said when you were crying

**Author's Note:**

> Previously posted on tumblr

  
**Things you said when I was crying**

“I've been sending out a message. A distress call. Outside the bubble of our time, the universe is still turning, and I've sent a message everywhere. To the future and the past, the beginning and the end of everything. ‘The Doctor is dying. Please, please help.’”

For just a moment, his eyebrows lifted and the corner of his mouth turned up. It was a shame, really, that she couldn’t enjoy him being impressed with her. A second later his eyes screwed shut as he seemed to physically shake himself out of it. 

“River! River, this is ridiculous. Listen to me: this _has_ to happen. You can’t—” he stopped abruptly, glancing nervously aside as Amy and Rory appeared from the staircase.

“We barricaded the door,” Amy said. “We've got a few minutes. Just tell him. Just tell him, River.”

He looked back to her, tense and expectant.

“Those reports of the sunspots and the solar flares,” River hurried to explain, “they're wrong. There aren't any. It's not the sun, it's you. The sky is full of a million, million voices, saying _yes,_ of course we'll help! You've touched so many lives, saved so many people. Did you think when your time came, you'd really have to do more than just ask? You've decided that the universe is better off without you, but the universe doesn't agree!”

“River, no one else can help me. Time is disintegrating, and _we_ have to stop it.”

“I can’t let you die.”

“But I have to die!”

 _“Shut up!”_ River snapped. “I can't let you die without knowing you are loved. By so many, and so much. And by no one more than me.” She scarcely managed to choke out the words, her voice wavering as tears spilled over her cheeks. For half a second, she thought the Doctor was close to tears too.

“River, you and I, we know what this means,” he said, truly pleading with her now. “We are ground zero of an explosion that will engulf all reality. Billions on billions will suffer and die!”

“I'll suffer, if I have to kill you.”

“More than every living thing in the universe?!”

Maybe she was selfish. Maybe, if she were better, she would have lied; put on a show of strength she didn’t feel, and let him go to his death without this weight on his conscience. Maybe that’s what he expected of her. Maybe they were both selfish.

Instead, she whispered, “Yes.”

For a moment the Doctor gaped at her, anguished and wide-eyed. Then he let out a growl of frustration, pacing round the beacon that stood between them, clearly struggling without the use of his arms to aid his tantrum. “River, River! Why? _Why_ do you have to be so—” He slowed to a stop, the air visibly going out of him as his eyes fell shut. “So young.” He shook his head. “River, listen, you have to understand—”

“No,” she said, hastily dashing the tears from her cheeks. “No, I understand perfectly. But you just tell me one thing, Doctor. Could you do this?” He froze, and she fancied she could _see_ his blood run cold. Maybe it was cruel to ask, and neither answer was really one she wanted to know. But at least he was finally listening. “To save the universe, all of existence? You look me in the eye and tell me you could kill me— could pull the trigger with your own hands.”

“I destroyed my own people to save the universe, River,” he said quietly. “All of them.”

“That isn’t an answer, sweetie.”

The Doctor opened his mouth, but said nothing. It was all too clear from the muted horror in his eyes when his last excuse crumbled. He shook his head slightly, helplessly: not quite an admission of ‘no,’ but it surely wasn’t ‘yes.’ So, he finally knew where she was: trapped beneath the crushing weight of all existence.

“Well, then,” she sighed. “I think now we understand each other.”

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, looking down at the stone beneath them. “River, I really am _so_ sorry— after all you’ve been through already. All because of me. To ask this of you… You have to know I’d try everything to find another way.”

“Yes, I do. So you’ll forgive me for doing the same.”

He nodded, resigned, a pained smile on his lips. “Always.”

And as they locked gazes again over the beacon, his cheek briefly twitched up in what River almost thought was a wink. It was so quick she was nearly sure she’d imagined it, but the way he was staring at her, as if begging her to understand… 

A bloom of hope flooded through her chest, the blood pounding in her ears. Could he possibly have done it? Why then wouldn’t he just _tell her?_ The Doctor glanced nervously toward her parents again, stood against the wall, watching them in wide-eyed silence. So, whatever this was, they had to be kept in the dark?

“There are stories about us, you know,” she began, as if she were only stretching the time with conversation, and not carefully feeling out the limits of what he could say. 

“Idle gossip,” he replied dismissively. Playing along.

“Archaeology,” she corrected.

“Same thing.” 

“Either I’m the woman who marries you, or the woman who murders you.”

“Well, gossip only ever gets it half right.”

“Pity,” River said softly, “that we don’t get to pick the half.”

“Yes,” the Doctor agreed, and let out a deep breath. “I think the best we can do is both.” 

_“..._ What?”

He shrugged his shoulders slightly. “If you’re up for it.”

“You’re serious,” she said incredulously.

“Deadly. —Sorry, bad choice.”

“Is _this_ really the time?!” she sputtered.

“Well, to be fair, it is quite literally the only time. Why, you’ve got something better to do?”

She barked out a bitter laugh. “Than accept your consolation prize? I just might.”

“No, River, that’s not—” the Doctor shook his head sharply, walking around the beacon to face her, as close as she dared let him get. “That is _not_ what this is."

“What is it, then?” she whispered.

“The trouble with spoilers... When you know what’s coming, sometimes you forget you have to make it happen.”

“Yes, well, you’re cutting it kind of fine,” she quipped tearfully.

“I know.” He smiled, tipping his head toward the beacon. “You wanted to show me this. That if I asked, the whole universe would answer. Not to seem ungrateful, dear, but I’m really only interested in yours.”

“Oh, I hate you,” she said thickly, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.

“You definitely don’t,” he murmured, smiling that infuriating little smile at her. And she couldn’t even kiss it off of him.

River shook her head, breathing out a strangled laugh. “Well,” she said, sniffing and taking a deep breath, “how are we doing this?” 

“That’s a yes?” the Doctor asked, his smile widening to a grin.

“Yes of course it is, you stupid idiot,” she snapped.

He swayed closer, and seemed to catch himself only when he was halfway to kissing her. “Amy!” he called, wobbling a bit precariously without the ability to flail his arms. “Uncuff me now!”

“What are you doing now, exactly?” Amy asked, looking sceptically to River for confirmation before she released him.

“Marrying your daughter, if that’s alright with you, Pond,” he said, rubbing his wrists and not waiting for an answer. “Okay, I need a strip of cloth about a foot long. Anything will do— never mind!” 

His face lit up as he turned back to River, undid his bow tie, and slid it free from his collar. 

“I’m not sure I completely understand,” Rory was saying.

“Um, we got married and had a kid and that’s her,” said Amy. 

“Right. Okay.”

River couldn’t help a little burst of laughter at the absurdity of the entire situation, but there was no time to waste, it seemed.

“Here,” the Doctor said, extending the unravelled fabric to her, “take one end of this. Wrap it around your hand, and hold it out to me.”

“Bow tie handfasting?” she asked, glancing up at him with an arched brow as she reverently wrapped the silk around her fingers.

“I’m improvising.” He was fighting back a nervous smile, and losing. “We're in the middle of a combat zone, so we'll have to do the quick version. Captain Williams, say 'I consent and gladly give.'”

“Oh,” said Rory. “Really, this is— right now? Um, I consent and gladly give.”

“Need you to say it too,” said the Doctor, glancing back at Amy, “mother of the bride.”

She opened and closed her mouth silently at that, before sputtering out, “I consent and gladly give.” The poor dears.

“River—” the Doctor began.

“Is this an ‘I do’ situation?”

“Something like that.”

“Any fine print I should know about?”

“Just the ‘forever’ part, really.”

“Well, then,” she whispered. “I’m all yours, sweetie.”

The Doctor shifted another step closer, the length of bow tie between their hands falling slack. The way he was drinking her in, so intently, sent a shiver down her spine. 

“I’d do it all again,” he said at last. “Every time.”

She was too busy choking back a sob to voice her agreement. 

“Now, River, I'm about to whisper something in your ear, and you have to remember it very, very carefully, and tell no one what I said.” She nodded, and for just a moment, he came close enough that she felt her curls stir as they brushed his cheek. _“Look into my eye.”_

Oh, that absolutely ridiculous man.

He stepped back, glancing nervously at her parents again as she stared at him, wide-eyed. “I just told you my name. Now, there you go. River Song. Melody Pond. You're the woman who married me. And wife, I have a request. This world is dying and it's my fault, and I can't bear it another day. Please, help me. There isn't another way.”

“Then you may kiss the bride.”

“I'll make it a good one.”

“You'd better."

**Things you said when you were crying**

At first, there were flashes. Fleeting pieces of dreams that she couldn’t be sure were real. One of them was a good dream, mostly. The other filled her with sickening panic, even when the details eluded her. A glimpse of placid water; cruel, glaring sunlight. She was frozen, powerless to move or escape. Then nothing but growing dark as she was dragged down, down, down.

There was movement again, and in each flash of awareness she was being pulled along, a dead weight against the sudden, brutal onset of gravity. Everything felt muffled, distant, heavy.

When she next emerged into semi-consciousness, she had fallen still again. There was a low, whirring hum that seemed very familiar, but it was muffled like everything else. She was briefly rocked about by something, but could barely feel whatever it was through the paralysing weight all around her. Then there was a sharp sound, like something very thick and heavy being torn. Though she still couldn’t move, she was jolted and tugged by it, the sound growing louder with each wrenching rip. Then there was a rush of cool air on her face, and the sudden, crisp sound of wind. She was lifted, limp as a sleeping child, into someone’s arms.

When River’s eyes fluttered open at last, there was just the faintest hint of a glow still lingering over the distant horizon. All the rest was deep night, filling her vision; the sky sprinkled with thousands upon thousands of brilliant stars. Looking up into the endless expanse, she almost felt she was drifting, weightless among them. Like the phantom feeling of swaying waves after a day in the water.

“Hey,” said a voice, beautifully familiar and so very close. As River came back down to Earth, she managed to place him.

“Hello, sweetie,” she said, a slow smile curling her lips. 

She flexed her fingers experimentally, and felt them slip against something hard and cold— his wristwatch. His skin was damp, and there was grit beneath her fingertips. Sand. Up, a little farther, to the rolled-up cuff of his sleeve: it was soaking wet, and a piece was missing, leaving a ragged edge. Strangely, she seemed to feel mostly dry, apart from where he’d started to soak through. Cold sand below them, and then his legs beneath her, his arms around her.

“What’s happened to you?”

“To me?” he laughed, but it sounded scratchy. “Burnt-up robot, that’s all.”

“You’re all wet.”

“Felt like a swim.” Even in the very slow and abstract state her mind seemed to be operating in, River knew that was nonsense.

“You’re… crying?”

The Doctor didn’t answer, but bent down close to her, his damp hair falling over his face. It was too dark to see clearly, but she was fairly sure he had been. 

“Do you mind if...?” he trailed off as he hesitated just a breath away from her lips.

It took River a moment to sort out what he was asking her, because he certainly already knew he didn’t need to. She had to be in worse shape than she’d thought. “’Course not,” she mumbled, and tried to reach for him, but her arms were too heavy to lift. 

She hadn’t noticed quite how cold she was until the shocking heat of his mouth on hers jolted her senses. She was vaguely aware that she was not processing anything normally, but was in no state to puzzle out the hows and whys with her head spinning and shivers juddering down her spine. She whimpered as he slowly pulled away, melting back into his arms.

The Doctor frowned down at her and touched two fingertips to his lips, a worried crease in his brow.

“What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer at first. He swallowed visibly, and his hand shook a little as he brushed her hair back from her face. “You were drugged,” he said tightly. “Rigged in the suit, probably.” The fury beneath the words was palpable, however carefully he was speaking to her.

Very little of that was making sense, but she had enough presence of mind to ask, “Bad?”

He hesitated just a moment too long before flashing her a reassuring smile. “Just need to sleep it off. Let’s get you home.” He shifted an arm beneath her knees, and the world lurched alarmingly as the ground fell away.

“Home?” River asked, the motion and the soft sound of his footfalls sinking into the sand lulling her back into drowsy abstraction.

“The TARDIS,” the Doctor said gently.

Oh, yes. Home. That was good. If it was worse than he was letting on, she could take care of it if anyone could. River’s head settled against the Doctor’s chest, and though cold seeped through his damp shirt, she could hear his hearts thundering beneath. “Good luck, isn’t it?” she mumbled.

“What is?”

“... over the threshold.” 

She felt his lips pressed to her forehead. “Yeah. Very important, those wedding things,” he said, with a sincerity she might not have believed, if he were anyone else. “Wouldn’t want to miss one.”

“Think we may have skipped a few, actually,” she murmured sleepily.

“Ah, don’t worry, dear. Plenty of time to catch up. I may have had some ideas for our honeymoon. Well, I say ‘some.’ Takes a while to burn a robot, as it turns out. Might take us a few years to work through the list, but who’s counting?”

River smiled as the soothing sound of his voice faded away.


	2. things you said in the back seat of a cab

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said in the back seat of a cab

“Oh, here,” River said, waving to an approaching car on the street, “let’s catch a cab.”

“Don’t you want to walk?” asked the Doctor, sliding his arm around her back. “It’s a beautiful night!”

It _was_ a lovely evening. Spring on Luna always was; it helped that the weather was engineered. It was breezy and warm, the air sweet with the scent of blossoming trees. But after dinner at the sort of restaurant that essentially required time travel to get a booking, River found walking back to the hall of residence a much less appealing proposition.

“I’ve got two hearts, sweetie, not two stomachs. If you want to walk home, you can pick a place with fewer courses next time.”

The Doctor amiably relented, dropping a kiss on her head as he turned to the cab, which had paused on the side of the street. In the 51st century they were sleek, shiny things, all black with tinted glass and a domed roof. “What is that one, a Lunar Link?” he asked. “They’re all autopilot in this decade, aren’t they?”

“All the ones I’ve seen. Why?”

“No reason.” He cleared his throat, opening the door for her to step inside. As he clambered in after her, he quickly produced the sonic from his pocket and aimed it at the control panel.

“Dodging the fare?” River asked as he shut the door. “That’s usually my area.”

“Um, no. Scrambling the CC feed and facial recognition.” She raised an eyebrow expectantly, and he sighed. “Let’s just say we’re… no longer welcome in several of these companies’ cabs.”

She let out a burst of delighted laughter. “And you’re always telling me to keep out of trouble!”

“Because I’ve _seen_ the trouble first-hand!”

“Sounds like you were more participating than observing.”

“Yes, well. You’re a terrible influence,” he grumbled, with poorly disguised fondness.

“In that case,” she said, grasping him by the lapel, “far be it from me to break with tradition.”

“See?” The Doctor smiled as she tugged him closer. “Terrible.”

He hummed contentedly as his lips met hers, and a shiver went through River’s body. She’d just about gotten over being embarrassed by how easily he could disarm her. Imagine, if she’d killed him with just one fleeting brush of her lips, a mockery of a kiss, and never experienced the real thing. What a dreadful waste that would have been.

They were interrupted all too soon by a series of chirping beeps and a polite, slightly robotic voice requesting, “Please input your destination.” They breathlessly broke apart, and the Doctor fumbled for his sonic, buzzed it at the control panel once more, and was already turning back to her as the cab pulled into the street. Their smiling mouths crashed together somewhat messily in their eagerness, and then his arms were around her, his hand under her hip, pulling her to him. River went along gladly, throwing her leg over his hip and settling in his lap.

“Destination?” she asked, brushing a kiss at the corner of his mouth.

“Taking the long way round.” He lifted his hand to her face, tipping her chin up to kiss her properly.

She sighed happily. “Have you always been this agreeable?”

“No,” the Doctor said, his laughing breath fanning over her cheek and sending another shiver down her spine. “And if— god forbid— you run into me when I’m young anytime soon, I’d appreciate it if you tried not to give me any heart attacks.”

“Mmm. I bet you’d like it.”

“Well, yeah, but don’t tell _me_ that.”

She laughed against his lips as he kissed her again, winding her arms around his neck. His hand splayed over her back, keeping her close, while the other lingered against her jaw, his thumb brushing gently over her cheek. He always touched her with a tenderness that seemed tinged with desperation; as though she might disappear if he dared to let go. He hardly had to worry. She didn’t want to be anywhere else.

It had been a few months now of settling into life on Luna, settling into _being_ River Song, and beginning to learn her way around their life together, such as it was. Months of leaving her last lecture each Friday afternoon to find him waiting with flowers and dinner plans or an exploding planet they just couldn’t miss. It was good to escape into the wider universe, chasing some danger and excitement after a long week of lectures and essays and pretending to tolerate undergraduates. But this was better. 

River wondered if the novelty of being wildly in love would ever wear off. It was her first time with anything like this, after all, and she felt a little at sea sometimes, unsure of what she should expect. If it would ever stop being so intoxicatingly good, and just be… normally pleasant. But the Doctor _was_ much older. And judging by the way her insides melted at the pressure of his hands gripping her hips, the warmth of his breathing over her skin, the soft curve of his tongue behind her teeth— well, it seemed the honeymoon period wasn’t about to end anytime soon.

And that was another thing, she reflected as she fumbled blindly with the buttons on his trousers. There was something very settled about him, too. Something that was just solid: comfortable and trusting and content with her. She couldn’t seem to stop wondering, particularly after her latest bit of research, exactly what the nature of that settledness was.

Eventually, curiosity got the better of her. She’d barely broken away from his lips when she blurted, “Are we married?”

“What?” The Doctor blinked at her, dazed. In his defence, she did have her hand in his pants. 

“Are we married?” she repeated. “I think it’s a reasonable question, in the circumstances.”

His eyebrows lifted and he shook his head slightly, huffing out a breath as he pushed his hair out of his face. “River, you know I can’t tell you.”

“I found a book that says we’re married.” 

He groaned, his head collapsing back onto the seat. “I’m sure I’ve told you not to do that.”

“Also found a book that says I’ve killed you,” she added thoughtfully. “Which, in fairness, I did. But the place and the date are wrong.”

“See? A whole lot of nonsense, so no point in filling your head with it.”

“But once you’ve read your own personal future— once you’ve been told what it is, doesn’t it have to happen?”

“Only if it’s true. We’re not all beholden to the prophecies of gossip magazines.” He sat up again, wrapping his arms around her as he began to press warm kisses to her face, her neck, her shoulder. River stifled a whimper as his parted lips lingered on her throat, sending a ripple of want throbbing through her body as her mind filled with everywhere else she’d like him to put that sweet, soft mouth. Oh, he was far too good at distracting her. Well, she supposed technically she was the one distracting them this time; they’d been busy when she was overcome with the need to question him.

“And _is_ it true?” she stubbornly persisted.

The Doctor lifted his head and watched her silently for a moment, rubbing his hands soothingly up and down her back. “I asked you, once,” he said at last. “Well, I asked if _you_ were married. May have sort of accidentally proposed in the process.”

“Accidentally?”

“I was young.”

“And what did I tell you?”

“The truth,” he laughed, shaking his head and looking at her with such aching affection. “You really shouldn’t have done that.”

“Because once you knew, it had to happen that way?”

“No, not quite. River, the important things— they’re up to us. We always have a choice.”

She looked him over consideringly. “You don’t have a wedding ring.”

“No,” he agreed after a moment, fiddling with his bow tie as he glanced out the window. 

“But you could just take it off when you come to see me, since it would be a bit of a giveaway.”

“River,” the Doctor said wearily, “you really need to stop. It’s all spoilers.” When she didn’t object, he pulled her closer, his hand cradling the back of her head.

“Would you even want to be married?” she asked, just before he could kiss her.

He exhaled, patiently studying her face. “Generally speaking, or to you specifically?”

“Is the answer different?”

“Yes.” 

River swallowed, her hearts nervously fluttering. “Either I should be insulted, or you’re showing your hand a bit, Doctor,” she said softly.

“Well, I’ll leave that to your judgement, dear,” he murmured, and she finally stopped interrogating him long enough for him to kiss her. 

She expected that to be the end of the discussion when he managed to work his hand under her skirt, and she pulled away from his mouth to gasp for air as his searching fingers found her bare beneath it.

“Any other questions?” he muttered into her ear, infuriatingly smug.

River moaned as he slipped two fingers inside her. He curled them just so and she cried out, shaking in his arms. She was _so_ spoiled with him being so far ahead: he always knew exactly what to do with her. So, maybe the smugness was a little deserved. “No,” she panted. “No questions.”

He curled his fingers again, and again, and then he joined the motion with his thumb circling her clit. River sobbed into his shoulder, shaking and rocking into his hand. He kissed her forehead softly, every press of his fingertips and pass of his thumb driving her closer and closer— 

“I may be an idiot,” he said suddenly, and she desperately tried to focus on what he was saying as she shuddered in his arms, “but even I know how lucky I’d be to call you my wife. And if I ever tell you otherwise, I’m lying.”

“Okay,” she gasped, burying her face in his jacket as her thighs trembled. “Noted.”

“Good,” the Doctor said, breathing out a sigh.

“And do you? Call me your wife?”

He twisted his wrist and sank his teeth into her earlobe, and River was too busy screaming to notice he hadn’t answered.

___

When the cab concluded its winding route back to the university, they stumbled out dishevelled and happy. The Doctor scowled at the knowing looks of students passing by as he attempted to surreptitiously reattach his braces, and River complicated the process somewhat by grabbing his face and snogging him up against the car, until it began to sound a warning beep, and they stepped back to let it pull away.

“Well,” she said, looking back from the street traffic to his dear face; admiring his kiss-swollen lips and the way the wind stirred his thoroughly mussed hair. “Yours or mine? My roommate’s probably in, but I bet we could scare her off. Actually,” she grudgingly corrected, “she’d probably love you and we wouldn’t be able to get rid of her. Everybody always does.”

“What can I say?” He tugged on his lapels. “It’s a curse to be this charming. Can’t turn it off. I guess,” he stepped closer and slipped his arms around her waist again, “you’d better come back with me. Just to avoid attracting any stray humans, of course.”

“You do tend to do that. Probably best to take precautions.”

“I’m parked round the other side,” the Doctor said, resting his hand against her lower back as he turned and led her away from the hall of residence. “The Old Girl will be happy to see you too, of course. Don’t tell me I said so, but she’s always liked you better.”

River laughed, leaning into his side. Fallen petals swept over the pavement ahead of them on a curl of wind. She didn’t want to be anywhere else.


	3. things you said I wouldn’t understand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tumblr prompt: things you said I wouldn’t understand

**things you said I wouldn’t understand**

_Happy ever after doesn't mean forever. It just means time. A little time. But that's not the sort of thing you could ever understand, is it?_

Perhaps not, the Doctor reflected, his knee bouncing impatiently beneath the table as they finally approached the end of their last course. (The food was delicious, probably. He hadn’t really noticed; too busy gripping River’s hand, in case she got any more daft ideas in between starters and dessert, and trying not to stare too much.) 

Could he ever accept that _a little time_ with her would be enough? Of course not. His entire being revolted against the idea with a ferocity that left him shaken. No amount of years or centuries, no number of lives with her could ever be enough. But they wanted the same thing, in the end: every last precious second they could get. That, he would gladly give her.

Things always fell so effortlessly into place with River. It had been wonderful enough just basking in her presence, but the instant she recognised him, they were _together_ again. She slipped back into that intimacy without a hint of hesitation, and it felt as comfortable and as thrilling as it always had. Of course the Doctor had known she didn’t care which face he had on, but it was another thing to experience how joyfully she welcomed a new one. With decades of night ahead of them, he felt the sun was truly shining on this old face for the first time.

“Staring again,” River observed, startling him out of his reverie. She was covering a smile by dabbing her napkin at the corner of her mouth, but it did nothing to hide the light in her eyes.

“Ah,” the Doctor said, not bothering to feign embarrassment. “Sorry.”

“Is that a particular quirk of this face?”

“Not generally, no.”

“Missed me, then?”

“You could say that,” he said, his voice wavering.

She turned toward him, laying her other hand over his. “How long?”

A thousand years. Five billion. Forever. So long that his memories of her had begun to seem like an impossibly beautiful dream; too good to have been real, to have ever graced his undeserving life.

“Too long,” the Doctor answered. He wondered how she could look at him like that, with all the love and concern and understanding born of centuries of companionship, when just hours ago she’d been declaring he’d never loved her. River squeezed his hand between hers.

“Well,” she announced after a moment, “this was wonderful, but I couldn’t eat another bite. Shall we go, darling?” 

He could only manage a grateful nod in reply.

With one long last look at the towers, they turned and made their way back to the TARDIS. River, evidently not in quite as much of a hurry as he was, stopped to speak to all the staff they passed on the way, lavishing praise on the meal and thanking them for the special attention they’d been given (as the original benefactors of the establishment, of course— not that he’d mentioned that bit to her yet. He’d get to it eventually.) 

She was lovely when she was being kind and gracious, just as she was lovely when she was brandishing a gun at someone, but either way, the Doctor didn’t have the patience for dealing with other people tonight. He wanted her attention all to himself. They were owed a little selfishness, he thought, after all this time. When he placed his hand at her lower back, she took mercy on him again and said her goodbyes to the hostess, letting him steer her into the TARDIS. 

The door creaked shut behind them at last, and a tense quiet descended over the room. This was usually the part where they stumbled up to the console between laughter and kisses, argued amiably over the controls as they took off into the vortex or some unoccupied corner of deep space, and he made a show of pretending to complain about her half undressing him before they even made it to the bedroom.

River looked at him, and with his palm resting on her back, he could feel the stiff hesitance in her posture. She was waiting, probably for a sign that he wanted that: to go on as if not a day had passed since they’d last been together. And, god, he’d never wanted anything more in his lives. But there was no pretending he hadn’t heard all the things she’d said today, not now. He was done with taking the easy way out, and it was up to him to put her doubts to rest. But where to even begin?

“So,” she said, flashing him an uncertain, tremulous smile. Always the brave one. “What do you want to…” she trailed off, her shining eyes searching his. Her lips were slightly parted in silent question, and as his gaze settled there, the Doctor decided all at once to throw out the order of priorities. Anyway, he was good at multitasking.

River made a strangled sound in her throat as his lips met hers, surprise trailing into an urgent whimper. They stumbled into the railing, and he pressed up against her, leaving no space between them for her to fill in with doubts of whether he wanted this. She grasped blindly for him, one hand gripping his jacket and the other winding into his hair. They fit together just as perfectly as he’d remembered, but no memory could compare to this. His tongue traced along her upper lip, and she tipped her head back, sighing with pleasure.

The Doctor worried for a moment that his knees would give out at the overwhelming feel of her, solid and warm and so alive, breathing sharply under his shaking hands. His mind clouded with the bright aroma of her perfume, the soft heat of her skin, the lingering trace of champagne sparkling on her tongue. He’d nearly forgotten what it was to love her _and_ to have her. Centuries of grief and longing met with sudden, miraculous relief, and the shocking reality of it was almost more than his nerves could take. 

He was shivering, but couldn’t bring himself to care if she noticed. That was really beginning to bother him, though, the more he turned it over in his mind— the noticing. Today’s events notwithstanding, River was far too clever not to have noticed a _very_ long time ago that he was madly in love with her. He hadn’t exactly made a secret of it over the centuries. How, after so much time together, had he managed to fuck up this badly?

“Tell me, wife,” he mumbled in between graceless, needy kisses. “Where did I go wrong?” His hands fell to her waist, tracing up over her sides, the beading on her dress rasping under his fingertips.

“You didn’t, sweetie,” she breathed.

The Doctor huffed in disbelief. “You thought I didn’t love you.” He tried not to wince at the words. No matter how painful it was for him, it was worse for her. “You… think I don’t love you.”

“Oh, anyone can fool a lie detector,” she scoffed. “Don’t you think I accounted for that possibility before planning his murder right under his nose?”

“River, come on. Don’t do that. When you said it, you meant it. You meant it enough.”

“It, it’s not that—” she stammered, but he pressed on, forcing out the most difficult question before he lost the nerve.

“Did you always? Did you really always believe that, our whole life together?”

“Oh, darling, no,” she said, stroking his face. “Of course not.” 

“Because— I’m not trying to make excuses, I know I can be rubbish— but I thought I’d been sort of extremely clear on that point? I’m, I’m sure there were a lot of honeymoons, and, uh, some poetry…”

River breathed out a soft laugh, her hand still resting against his cheek, and he leaned into her palm. She had no reason to be looking at him with such affection when he’d clearly been completely inadequate as a husband to her.

“It was just… after Manhattan,” she said, and glanced down, avoiding his eyes. “You were gone, and… after a while, I thought I’d rather pretend it had never been real, than admit I’d lost everything. I knew better. _I did,”_ she insisted, when he frowned at her. “But it was… easier. To run off and get into trouble you wouldn’t approve of, and tell myself you didn’t care anyway.”

The Doctor let out a heavy breath, resting his forehead against hers. “You never lost me, River. You never could. You were always younger, after that. I should have come back for you, looked for you where you are now. But I thought if I did, I wouldn’t be able to hold this off any longer.” He swallowed tightly, choking back tears. “I’m sorry. I… I did ask you to stay.”

“I know.”

“I meant it. I’ve always wanted that.”

“Me too,” she whispered.

“Give me another chance?”

“Always. If that’s still what you want.”

“Wha— of course it is,” the Doctor sputtered, incredulous. “You’re my wife.”

“You do have others.” She made a good show of teasing him, but he knew better now.

“River,” he sighed, “those were _weddings,_ not _marriages._ Any idiot can stumble into a wedding, but there’s only so many times you can keep coming back and still call it an accident. I think we were well past that number by our wedding night, dear. —Which,” he added as she laughed, smiling up at him through tears, “is also a thing none of the other ones had. I married you on purpose, and I’m going to stay right here with you on purpose, because I love you, and being with you is— it’s all I want. Is that okay?”

He was alarmed for a moment when River choked out a sob, but she was still smiling as she nodded, her tear-streaked cheeks shining. Then she took his face firmly in both hands and kissed him with such frantic passion that his head spun. Or, maybe not just his head. Before he’d quite figured out what was happening, she’d flipped them about so he was pinned against the railing instead.

“Oh,” the Doctor croaked. The sudden jolt of heat tingling through his body as he reflexively gripped her hips was another thing he’d nearly completely forgotten. It would seem he still enjoyed nothing more than River casually demonstrating she could kill him with her little finger, but had decided to do very nice things to him instead. It was just so _her._ His wife, the obstinate assassin. Not even a lifetime of brainwashing could compel her to do anything she didn’t want to do. Lucky bastard that he was, she’d decided she wanted to love him.

“Know what I said about how everything isn’t sexy?” he muttered. She pulled back just enough to raise an eyebrow at him. “I’m prepared to make an exception.”

River laughed, pleased and warm. “Aren’t you always?”

“Only for you, dear.”

“Mmm, good answer.”

“Bedroom?” he suggested.

“Thought you’d never ask,” she sighed. “But… we should probably park her somewhere other than the restaurant lobby first.”

“Oh, right. Good idea.”

They stumbled to the console between laughter and kisses, and bickered cheerfully over the map of their new home planet on the scanner, before deciding that moving her just outside the restaurant was good enough for now. There’d be plenty of time to settle in wherever they chose later.

“You know,” River said as they turned down the corridor to the bedroom, “since you mentioned it. You did write me the most lovely poetry. I keep them all in my diary. Have you written anything lately?”

“Er, written yes; poetry no.”

“Oh?”

“Electric guitar, mostly.”

“Really!” she exclaimed, delighted. “Now that is _definitely_ sexy.”

“Yeah?” the Doctor asked, a grin spreading over his face.

“Very. What inspired you to take it up?”

“Ah, well, I don’t know,” he said, slipping his arm around her waist. “Guess I’m always thinking of a song.”


End file.
